


Mistletoe and Holly

by Cat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, silly Christmas fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat/pseuds/Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas at the Avengers Mansion and one person is missing from the midnight champagne toast. Clint seeks out Coulson's whereabouts and discovers more than he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe and Holly

**Author's Note:**

> Christmasy fluff that is short and may be expanded upon in the future.

“Merry Christmas!” The chorus of naturally (and artificially) cheerful voices enthused as the clock on the mantel chimed loudly, pronouncing the decree that it was now officially midnight.

Clint looked around the sea of faces as they clinked champagne glasses and toasted to the season. They were faces that he had grown to know well over the past year, faces that he looked forward to encountering on a daily basis - whether it be during the heat of battle or the comfortable, but very infrequent, occurrence of downtime. These people were the closest thing to a real family that he’d ever had and he took a great deal of pleasure in their successes and felt personally invested in their losses.

It was during this survey of his comrades that he noticed one figure was noticeably absent. The smile that had been affixed to the archer’s face slowly faded as he approached the nearest reveler. “Hey. Where did Coulson run off to?”

“No clue.” Bruce shrugged as he, too, looked around the room. “Maybe he decided to bring out those trading cards. Again.”

“Heh. He does get off on showing those, doesn’t he?” Clint chuckled slightly before he began a semi-casual walk through the downstairs rooms of the mansion. He found a lot of Christmas decorations that were strangely charming in their discord - wreaths and boughs of real holly, springs of mistletoe, oversized Nutcracker statues and multicolored lights galore. 

And then there were the trees.

Every room had at least one enormous spruce or fir tree, festooned with ornaments and lights and every kind of Christmas knick-knack known to man. Or so at seemed. It was oddly endearing in its garishness, but then it was Tony’s turn to decorate the place this year and...well, anything less would have been completely out of the norm for the over-the-top millionaire, playboy, philanthropist. So while a setting like this would normally be ostentatious and even repulsive to someone with Clint’s particular liking, this array was typical Tony and so, in turn, very much representative of family.

Family. 

He really liked the sound of that word, even in his thoughts. 

“Ho...ho...oh....oh ho ohhh...”

Clint turned his head at the sound of a familiar voice. There, in the shadows of a kitchen corner, was a ball of red and white that he quickly deduced to be the elusive Coulson, in Santa Claus regalia. He started toward him, chuckling. “There you are, sir. Been looking all over the place for you. Did we dip into the nog already?” 

A low groan was his only response.

Clint’s smile slowly faded as he drew closer and crouched down beside him. He touched the soft red coat and tilted Coulson’s head back so his face was visible. “Holy...you look like shit, sir.”

The sweat-covered, beardless face before him broke into a feeble grin. “Thanks. I feel like it too. Help...help me up.”

Reluctantly, Clint held out his hand and helped the unsteady man to his feet. “Dude, you’re shaking and not like a bowl full of jelly. Let me get Banner...”

“No!” 

Coulson’s exclamation was so adamant that it took both of them by surprise. “I mean...no. That’s okay. I’ll...I’ll be fine. I know what’s going on. I just need to...I need to lie down. Just a bit...and I’ll be fine.”  
Coulson doubled over and it was all Clint do to keep him from falling to the floor.

“Sir, with all due respect...seriously, let’s get you to someplace to lie down but then I’ll get Banner to take a look at you.” 

“Dammit, Barton, no!” Breathing heavily, it seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort for Coulson to straighten. His fingers dug deeper into Clint’s arm and his teeth were gritted as he used his free hand to reach up and remove the Santa hat from his head. He tossed it aside and smiled slightly. “That might help the sweating.” He groaned and doubled over again and Clint shifted to try to hold onto him as best he could.

“Fuck this. I’m going to get Bruce...”

“Don’t...you dare. It’s...your fault I’m...sick...in the first place.”

Clint’s blue eyes widened slightly and he tried to process that as he helped Coulson shuffle out of the kitchen. “My fault?” He muttered as they entered the main hallway. “How the hell is this my fault?”

Coulson urged them to stop and there was distinctive scowl on his sweaty face. “Easy. That cookie dough in the fridge?”

Oh shit! He didn’t...

“Sir, you didn’t...you didn’t cook that, did you?” The shit was so out of date it wasn’t funny. Barton had forgotten all about tossing it. And now it was coming back to bite him (and Phil) in the ass. Or rather, the stomach.

“Cook it? No. I probably should have. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like my insides are being ripped apart by a million razor blades.” Coulson laughed bitterly and urged Clint to start walking again. “I saw how much you loved to eat that stuff raw and thought I’d try it...just on a lark.”

“Just on a lark. Fuck. You didn’t think to check the expiration date on that, did you?!” Clint groaned inwardly. Would he face some kind of disciplinary action for this? Hi, I poisoned my SO but it’s not really my fault because he was the one that decided to raid my fridge without my permission. Shit. Shit. Double shit.

The look that passed over Coulson’s face would’ve made Clint laugh out loud had it not been so obvious how ill the other man was. He decided that it was probably for the best not to tell Coulson exactly what the date on the dough was. It would probably send the man into a full on coronary. 

“Lesson learned, Agent.” 

Clint was finding it harder and harder not to smile now that he knew what the cause of Coulson’s malady was. It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. 

“Agent Barton, hold up.”

Clint stopped. “Sir?” They were still well away from the livingroom or any room that had anything resembling a couch or a bed in it. He watched in surprise as Phil straightened upright to a full standing position. “Merry Christmas, Clint.”

“What the...?”

The archer gasped as Coulson ‘miraculously’ regained his strength and pulled him close and into a kiss that was deep, searing, and left them both gasping for breath by the time it was over. A very satisfied Coulson tilted his head upward and Clint discovered that there was an enormous amount of mistletoe overhead, suspended from a wire that stretched from one side of the hall to the other. 

“Nice work, Santa!”

Clint whirled in place and saw the rest of the gathering hovering near or in the doorway to the livingroom, taking great pleasure in watching the festivities before them. 

“Didn’t think you’d ever get him, Agent.” Stark lifted his glass in approval.

“How could he not with all the mistletoe you hung up there, Stark?” Steve Rogers shook his head, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Congratulations, gentlemen.” Natasha Romanova winked at the two, then turned to the others. “Come on, boys. Let’s give them a moment.”

“Is this retribution for Agent Barton’s prank on Son of Coul from last year?” Thor murmured as he followed the others back into the livingroom. “I do not quite understand.”

Coulson waited until the others disappeared before he turned to Clint, his expression serious for a moment. “I’m sorry if I...I mean if this went...I mean, if I embarrassed you. I wasn’t sure how to go about this and thought that you might be more receptive if I made it look like a prank and...” His words were cut off by Clint’s mouth and yet another searing, breathtaking kiss.

This time, when the kiss was finished, Clint didn’t pull away. His eyes were dark and he wore an almost predatory grin that made a shiver travel down Coulson’s spine. “I like the suit. But I think it needs to come off.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”


End file.
